Night Call Page 11

  “If you’re looking for the party, you’re in the right place.”

  A woman approached juggling a case of beer and a grocery bag overflowing with chips and other snacks. Her solid build and bold blue eyes were familiar. Jett only caught glimpses of the trauma team as they huddled on the roof, waiting for the medcrew to off-load patients from the helicopter, and she was usually busy securing her aircraft and not watching what was happening outside. Still, she’d seen this woman enough times to recognize her as one of the trauma surgeons.

  “Let me give you a hand,” Jett said, reaching for the shopping bag.

  “Thanks. I’m Quinn Maguire.” Quinn handed over the sack.

  “Jett McNally. I fly for Healthstar.”

  “Oh, so you’re responsible for stealing Linda away from us. You’d better not advertise that too loudly. My partner is the ER chief and she hasn’t gotten over Linda’s defection yet.”

  “Sorry.” Jett grinned. “Actually, I don’t think I’m responsible. I think it’s the helicopter.”

  Quinn laughed and pushed open the gate, motioning Jett to go ahead. “I can see Linda being into that. Seriously, you guys make a huge difference. Since the hospital got flight approval, I’ve seen a real decline in our mortality stats.”

  “That’s good to know.” Since the choice had been made for her, Jett stepped into the yard and followed a stone pathway around the side of the house. The wood-fenced backyard was bigger than she expected and crowded with women and men and children.

  “I’ve got to dump this stuff inside and find Honor,” Quinn said. “We’ve got a new baby and Honor is probably due for a little break about now.”

  “Here,” Jett said, shifting the groceries to one arm and reaching for the beer with the other. “Where do you need this?”

  “Thanks. In the kitchen, I guess.” Quinn pointed to the back porch and the open back door. “Straight through there.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  “Appreciate it. Nice talking to you.”

  Quinn sauntered off into the crowd, and Jett went in search of the kitchen. Having something to do made her feel slightly more comfortable. She nodded to women she didn’t know who smiled as she passed, said hi to Juan, who leaned against the railing with a pretty woman she assumed was his wife, and edged open the back door with her shoulder. The kitchen was as crowded as the yard, filled with people replenishing drinks, exchanging empty bowls of food for full ones, and standing in groups talking. To her relief, Jett saw Linda immediately and headed for her.

  “I ran into Quinn. Special delivery.”

  “Hey,” Linda said with a big smile. “You made it. That’s great. Oh good, more beer. I should’ve remembered that softball players aren’t big on wine. They’re going through the beer like mad. The backup coolers are in the dining room. Would you mind putting these on ice in there for now?”

  “Sure. Where’s the dining room?”

  Linda squeezed Jett’s arm. “Sorry. Through that door and to the right. Did you get something to eat?”

  “Not yet. I’m good.”

  “Well, don’t wait if you get hungry. Soon there won’t be anything left but the carcasses.”

  “Got it.” Jett hefted the case of beer and worked her way through the crowd into the relative peace and quiet of the dining room. The table was covered with a paper tablecloth and platters, mostly empty, of the usual summer party fare—salads, burgers, chicken, and pasta dishes. Four coolers sat on plastic sheets against one wall. She set down the case of beer and checked the coolers. When she found one with only a few cans of beer remaining, she squatted to transfer the beer into it.

  “Need help with that?”

  At the sound of Tristan’s voice, Jett’s pulse jumped a little and she took a couple of seconds to steady herself. Then she looked up. From her position, she was just about at eye level with the fly of Tristan’s low-slung jeans. Tristan wore a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her dark hair was tousled, the way it had been that morning out on her porch, and her lips curved into a smile that Jett could have interpreted as pleasure, if she’d wanted to. She didn’t. She rose quickly, needing the advantage of being eye to eye. Actually, she was just a little taller than Tristan, which helped when she was so off balance around her.

  “All taken care of. Are you running low outside?” Jett asked.

  Tristan slowly shook her head. “I don’t think so. I saw you come in with Quinn. I was wondering if you were going to show.”

  “Linda is hard to say no to.”

  “I’m glad you made it.”

  Jett didn’t know what to say to that, because she didn’t know how to interpret it. Tristan didn’t seem to do small talk, but Jett might be imagining the connection she felt. Fortunately, she was saved from replying when several people wandered in, chatting as they began gathering the empty dishes from the table. Jett moved out of their path and Tristan followed her. Jett backed up, aware of Tristan inches away, until she turned the corner into the living room, which was empty. Somehow they ended up standing in the far corner next to an entertainment center.

  “When I first saw you out there, I thought for a second you were going to dump that beer and leave.” Tristan leaned against the wall, her right hand in her front pocket. Her pose was casual but her eyes were hot and hard as they roamed over Jett’s face. “You don’t like crowds much, do you?”

  Jett laughed. “I’ve spent the last thirteen years living in other people’s pockets. Sleeping in barracks, riding in troop trucks, eating in mess halls—this is nothing.” When Tristan only stared, Jett contemplated walking away. Tristan saw things she didn’t want seen. And she asked questions that Jett didn’t want to answer.

  “But you really don’t want to be here, do you?” Tristan said.

  “I’m not much for socializing.”

  Tristan laughed softly. “How about dating? Are you much for that?”

  Jett’s stomach tightened. The sun had been setting when she’d walked over, and now it was nearly dark outside. No one had turned the room lights on, and she and Tristan stood in shadow. A hot breeze blew through the window, and she pictured them in her tent on a still, sultry night, skins wet with sweat, blood pounding as their arms and legs tangled. She shook her head, as much to dispel the image as to back Tristan off. “I don’t date.”

  “But you do like women.”

  “I think you know that,” Jett murmured.

  “Hoped.” Tristan ran her finger inside the open collar of Jett’s short-sleeve cotton shirt, along Jett’s collarbone.

  Jett tensed. Tristan’s touch drew a line of fire over her skin. This was nothing like Gail. She hadn’t known what Gail wanted and wasn’t sure of Tristan either, but Tristan at least was honest about this much. Tristan’s message was clear and Jett’s body responded to the invitation. A throb of arousal beat hard between her thighs. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you…” Tristan’s voice was hoarse and she swallowed. “I want you to go out with me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t go out with just anybody, and I want it to be me when you do.”

  “Maybe I just don’t like people,” Jett said lightly, trying to break the spell of Tristan’s gaze. Tristan had dropped her hand, but they’d both shifted so their bodies very nearly touched. Jett’s nipples were tight and aching. She wanted to capture the pulse dancing at the base of Tristan’s throat in her teeth.

  “You must care about people, or you wouldn’t do the work you do.” Tristan eased one leg forward until her thigh grazed Jett’s. “So that’s pretty much bullshit.”

  “I do what I do because I love to fly.” Jett’s temper flared. Tristan pissed her off, pushing and probing, wanting to get inside her. The anger fused with her arousal until her whole body trembled with the need to put her hands on Tristan. She wanted to strip her bare, the way Tristan was slicing away her defenses. She wanted to be inside her, buried in her, the way Tristan was penetrating her. She
wanted to make her cry out, with shock and pleasure, the way Tristan was forcing her to feel her own needs and desires.

  “Uh-huh.” Tristan’s breath shuddered out and she tilted her head, her eyes on Jett’s as she inched closer. Another fraction and they’d be kissing, if Jett didn’t move. “You don’t trust people very much, do you?”

  “I haven’t had much reason to.”

  “Why? Who hurt you?”

  “That’s enough,” Jett whispered.

  Tristan blinked, gasping suddenly as if she’d been held underwater until she was almost drowning and had just struggled to the surface. She clasped Jett’s waist with both hands and leaned in for the kiss. “I’m sorry. You do things to me. You make me want—”

  “Tristan, don’t.” Jett saw the redhead coming and backed away.

  “There you are,” Darla said brightly as she wrapped her arms around Tristan from behind. She kissed the side of her neck. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  Tristan stiffened and her face went blank. Still watching Jett, she said casually, “Shop talk.”

  “God, don’t you doctors ever get enough.” She kissed Tristan again, then leaned around her and held out her hand to Jett. “Hi, I’m Darla.”

  “Jett. Nice to meet you.” Jett edged past Tristan toward the door. “Have a nice night.”

  Jett hadn’t made it out of the room before she heard Darla say, “You owe me dessert.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Darla wrap her arms around Tristan’s neck and press her back against the wall, kissing her hungrily. As Jett escaped, she felt no anger or disappointment, only relief. She’d wanted that kiss, she’d wanted more than that. And now she could stop wanting.

  *

  “Uh-oh,” Linda murmured.

  “What?” Honor had almost fallen asleep stretched out in a lounge chair on the lawn. Robin had hung candle lights from the fence and several trees, drenching the wide yard with a warm, yellow glow. Honor felt the warmth inside, supremely content and satisfied.

  “Nothing.”

  Honor sat up, instantly alert to the oh-so-casual note in Linda’s voice. She scanned the yard and in less than a second found the source of Linda’s remark. Mandy had cornered Quinn at one of the picnic tables and was practically straddling her lap. Probably the only reason she wasn’t actually in Quinn’s lap was that Quinn had Jack in a baby carrier across her chest.

  “Okay,” Honor said lightly, pushing herself upright with one arm. “Time to kill her.”

  “Wait,” Linda said, grabbing Honor’s arm.

  “Nope. No more waiting. I’ve been patient for almost two years. Enough is enough.”

  Linda was laughing.

  “I’m serious,” Honor said calmly.

  “I know. I know. But look at her face.”

  Honor was afraid that one more look at Mandy sniffing around Quinn was really going to make her lose her temper. She didn’t actually plan on creating a scene, but she did intend to make it clear that Quinn was off-limits, once and for all. Nevertheless, she checked Mandy out again. After a second, she laughed too. Quinn sprawled back against the picnic table, relaxed and sexy as all get-out. Just the sight of her made Honor want to drag her away somewhere and get her naked. As Quinn grinned up at Mandy, she absently patted Jack’s back.

  Mandy stared at Jack with undisguised horror, as if he were an alien creature that had somehow landed on Quinn’s chest. Ever so slowly, she backed up.

  “I guess she’s not one of those women who gets teary-eyed at the sight of a baby,” Honor said.

  “Honey, she looks like Quinn has a contagious disease.”

  “Quinn looks unbelievably hot holding that baby.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you think so, since she’s probably going to be doing that a lot for the next couple of years.”

  “Look,” Honor said, “Mandy is practically running away.”

  “I think Jack has finally accomplished what even the wedding ring couldn’t do. Mandy acts like Jack is a no-trespassing sign hanging around Quinn’s neck. Hands off. Private property of Honor Blake.”

  “Good. I trust Quinn.” Honor eased back down into the chair. “That still doesn’t mean I like some harlot looking at her like she’s a side of beef.”

  “Harlot?” Linda lowered her voice when several people looked in their direction. “Harlot?”

  Honor shrugged. “That seemed more polite than some of the other things I was thinking.”

  “Well, I’d say your beefcake is safe now.” Linda followed Mandy’s retreat, then muttered again. “Uh-oh.”

  “What now?”

  “I think Mandy’s just found fresh meat.”

  Honor turned to look. “Isn’t that your pilot?”

  Linda nodded as Mandy honed in on Jett, who leaned against one of the big oak trees, nursing a beer. “I hope Chief McNally can maneuver as well on the ground as she does in the air.”

  *

  “You promised you’d call me,” Mandy said, tapping Jett in the center of her chest with a perfectly sculpted nail.

  “Did I?” Jett shook her head, smiling slightly. “Then I should apologize for being so forgetful.”

  “You can make it up to me.” Mandy draped both arms on Jett’s shoulders and leaned against her, nestling her pelvis in Jett’s crotch. Her breasts were heavy and warm against Jett’s chest. Jett wasn’t used to public displays of affection and glanced quickly around. No one was paying any attention to them, and more than one couple had cozied up on a lounge chair or sprawled on a blanket. Apparently everyone with children had taken them inside or gone home.

  “I think you’d be disappointed.” Jett palmed Mandy’s hip and tried to put some space between them. Instead, Mandy rocked between Jett’s legs.

  “You don’t know what I want.” Mandy ran her tongue along the edge of Jett’s jaw.

  “More than I’ve got to offer.”

  Mandy’s breath was hot against Jett’s neck as she undulated against her. “I want you to make me feel good. Really good. And I know you know how.”

  Jett had been aroused since Tristan had touched her, and her body had been simmering for weeks with dream memories and daytime fantasies. Having Mandy climbing all over her was like tossing a match on gasoline. She kissed Mandy’s neck.

  “I just might.”

  “Show me,” Mandy whispered hotly in her ear.

  Jett looped an arm around Mandy’s waist and pulled her around the other side of the tree into the shadows. Then she pushed her against the rough bark, wedged her thigh between her legs, and kissed her. Mandy moaned low in her throat and grabbed Jett’s ass, grinding into her. Every single thought, image, memory fled from Jett’s mind and all she felt were hot ripples of pleasure and merciful oblivion. She wanted more. She needed to find the knife edge of pleasure and slice through the hard heart of her pain until she bled to empty.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Jett rasped, dragging her mouth over Mandy’s neck.

  “Mmm, yeah,” Mandy moaned.

  Jett opened her eyes and through the haze saw Tristan staring at her from across the yard. She couldn’t read what was in Tristan’s face, and she didn’t want to know what was in her mind. What she wanted was right in her hands. She grabbed Mandy’s arm and dragged her away.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Look, Rick,” Tristan snapped, “if you want the patient to wake up as soon as you finish the case, you need to start estimating your time better. Don’t tell me it’s going to take three hours and then decide to quit after two.”

  “If you were watching the case instead of reading the newspaper,” the trauma fellow shouted, his face contorted with contempt, “you’d know when we were finishing up. I don’t have time to do my job and yours too.”

  Tristan yanked off her surgical mask, not even bothering to untie it, and threw it into the trash can outside the surgical intensive care unit where they had just delivered a forty-nine-year-old construction worker who’d fallen off a scaffold and broke
n his back. He’d probably never walk again. It wasn’t the kind of case that made anyone feel good, and Tristan wasn’t in the mood to take any crap from a resident. She got up in his face, and a look of surprise flashed across his as he backed up. When she had him up against the wall, she said tightly, “I’m not a mind reader, even if that is irrelevant in your case, you brainless dipshit—”

  “Your job is to make mine easier.” Rick’s chin shot out. “You’re nothing more than a glorified technician, and not a very good one at tha—”

  “You’re a good one to talk. If you actually had a clue what you were doing—”

  “Fuck you, you—”

  Quinn barreled around the corner and headed for them. “Whoa. Whoa. Cool off, you two, I can hear you all the way down the hall.” She surveyed first Tristan, then her trauma fellow, and finally fixed on Tristan. “What’s going on?”

  “We just spent an extra thirty-five minutes with the patient on the table because your trauma fellow forgot to tell me he wasn’t doing the feeding tubes today and ended the case early.”

  Quinn gave Rick a questioning look. He glanced away, his jaw muscles working silently. Finally, he said, “Ortho wants to bring him back in three days for a washout of his tibia, so I figured we could do it then if he needs it.”

  “Sounds reasonable. Did you tell Tris?”

  “Well, I, uh—”

  Quinn blew out a breath. “Okay. Rick, I’ll meet you for rounds in thirty. We’ll start in the SICU.”

  “Right,” Rick mumbled, and hurried into the surgical intensive care unit.